


Take it off

by zizizrites



Series: Drunk (In Love) verse [2]
Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: M/M, also a bit of phone sex and dirty talk i guess, bottom!Liam, i can't tag to save my life as you can clearly notice, i've gone to the dark side this once, they had cookies and all that what can i say, yep you read that right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 14:23:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6910816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zizizrites/pseuds/zizizrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i></i><br/>    <b>Update: Liam Payne sets foot in the fashion world with steamy underwear campaign!</b><br/>  
</p>
<p>  <i>A modeling gig. For an underwear collection. </i></p>
<p>  <i>Zayn was kinda disappointed with himself when he finally realized what that would entail and smacked his own head for being so slow to piece things together. </i></p>
<p>  <i>There was no way he was gonna survive that.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Take it off

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I’m back with my silly verse, oops.
> 
> This is a companion piece to my previous fic [ So fluorescent under these lights ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6350656) and it’s set in the same universe, with famous!Liam/singer!Zayn. The events that occur in this fic happen before SFUTL in my timeline and you can read it has a stand alone fic if you want :)
> 
> So yeah, a lil series. I don’t know yet how long it will be or when I’ll post the next installment, but I do have at least three more parts already planned for sure, so you can look forward to that! If you’re interested in any particular moment/event, just leave me a comment and I’ll see what I can do about that. Also, for now the parts are not gonna be in chronological order (that will probably change, when the series grows a bit) so, again, if you’re confused about what happened when, my ask box is open. 
> 
> Last but not least, bottom!Liam. Yep, I’ve gone rogue this time. (It will probably never happen again.)
> 
> As always, thanks to [Ambra](http://liamstolenboxers.tumblr.com) for the lovely edit because I’m useless when it comes to graphics. 
> 
> *runs away and hides* Hope you enjoy!

 

 

Zayn must admit that, when Liam told him about it, he was quite surprised. It almost seemed out of character at first, Liam willingly attracting so much attention on himself with something so… public.

It seemed odd because Liam had always been so careful about his image, so reserved about his life in general, not wanting to attract more unnecessary attention to himself and fall into a stereotype. He always kept his head down, trying to set a good example, working hard to get his degree and start his own business, even if he would have never struggled for money doing nothing his whole life. He set goals for himself and worked his arse off to achieve them.

No sex tapes leaking on the internet, never getting caught inebriated enough to make headlines when he was younger, no major scandals in the trashy celebs magazines. He did cause a bit of a fuss when he first stepped out holding hand with another man, but even the commotion about his sexuality had died down as soon as something more interesting had snatched the attention of the media.

So it caught Zayn out of guard when Liam told him about this possibility. Zayn remembered that conversation by the fireplace in the skiing lodge last December, about how Liam struggled with accepting himself, his image a constant worry during most of his teenage years. When Zayn had a moment to think about it, he ended up being amazed by the fact that Liam finally felt comfortable enough to do a thing like that. If this was something Liam wanted to do, Zayn would support him. He was so bloody proud.

It still felt a tad weird saying it out loud. A modeling gig. For an underwear collection.

Zayn was kinda disappointed with himself when he finally realized what that would entail and smacked his own head for being so slow to piece things together.

There was no way he was gonna survive that.

——

**_Update: Liam Payne sets foot in the fashion world with steamy underwear campaign!_ **

_A couple of months ago, the fashion world got caught in a frenzy when the possibility of a collaboration between a well known multinational clothing company and media darling Liam Payne started to get around after Payne was seen leaving their London headquarters._

_Representers of both parties have since then confirmed the news and Payne himself was caught on tape saying he’s “looking forward to this new experience,” but the details on the extent of this collaboration have been kept very hush until now, when the British babe took matters into his own hands and posted one of the campaign’s snaps on his Instagram page._

_And let us tell you, our expectations have been exceeded! The photo, which we feel confident to assume it’s a preview of a much bigger shoot, portraits Payne in nothing more than an exquisitely fitting pair of brief and a sly smile._

_It seems like boy-next-door Liam was hiding a chiseled physique to go with his perfect jawline under his casual clothes and this steamy turn of events make us wonder even more who’s the mysterious person that managed to snag that meaty prize._

_Information on Payne’s personal life have never been forthcoming and he stated on multiple occasions that he’s a very private person when it comes to his closest affections, but speculations of a possible romance between the brand new model and singer Zayn Malik seems to only get fueled, after Liam posted a sleepy selfie captioned not other than “Wanna wake up next to you” on his Instagram no less than two weeks ago, when the rising star was in the middle of his UK and Ireland tour. If the phrase seems familiar that’s because you can listen to a very similar verse in Zayn’s hit single, ‘_ Pillowtalk _’._

_Just admiration for a song, or something more?_

_While we ponder that, we’d like to remind you that the collection is set to release in the spring, even if we don’t have an official date yet, and will most likely be available in selected stores only._

——

When photos of the campaign finally hit the web, Zayn is in London, prepping for the last concert of the UK leg of his tour. He doesn’t even get a heads up from some gossip site because the Instagram notification pings on his phone right before he’s called on stage. He opens the image, expecting one of Liam’s sleepy selfie or some silly new snapchat filtered photo, but an image of Liam, wearing a sinfully thigh pair of briefs is what he gets.

Zayn sucks in a breath, wanting nothing more that to get that smirk off Liam’s face screwing him stupid. He knows what a damn tease he can be when he wants to, and knowing him, Liam probably timed the post to mess with Zayn, the bloody twat.

He opens their message thread and sends a dry _I’m gonna kill you_ , before dropping the phone on his dressing room table and jumping on stage. If he screws up his last UK performance because he too busy trying to not pop a boner at the thought of that photo, he’s gonna murder Liam fucking Payne.

——

When Zayn goes backstage again during the little break before the encore, he has almost managed to compartmentalize his brain enough to push images of Liam in his underwear to the side for another half and hour.

Then he makes the mistake of checking his phone. There’s a text from Liam, presumably addressing the death threats Zayn sent his way before the show.

When he opens it, he finds a photo of Liam standing in the bathroom of his Surrey house, shirtless and smirking at the camera in the mirror, the same pair of pants from the campaign ad covering him, but they’re slid down unsafely, fully exposing the trail of hair leading to Liam’s dick.

_Waiting for you to come home so I can model the whole collection in private *winky emoji*_ , the text reads.

All of Zayn’s collected front flies out the window. He performs the last songs from his set trying to conceal an hard-on behind the microphone stand.

——

The music hasn’t even faded out completely before Zayn is rushing towards his dressing room, sidestepping or straight up ignoring the bunch of people faffing around backstage. He looks the door and scrambles for his phone, shoving a hand down his pants while hitting the call button.

He props himself against the door, too wound up to get comfortable on the couch and pushes a hand against his crotch, holding his breath while the phone rings.

He needs Liam right now, but Liam is all the way in Surrey so this will have to be enough. They’ve done it before, late phone calls when the distance was too much to bear alone. He felt the itchy need to get off since he saw the first photo and the adrenaline of the show just fueled his arousal, blood vessels straining to hold in the desire.

Liam picks up on the fourth ring and Zayn can feel the smirk in his voice on his overheating skin.

“Hey, babe,” Liam says. “How did the concert go?” he asks, casual, like the purpose of this call was to make small talks.

“ _Leeyum_ ,” Zayn moans, vowels stretching in his slurred speech. He wraps his fingers around his length and tugs. “Fuck, Liam.”

“That well, hmm?” Liam jokes.

“ _Liam_ ,” Zayn says again, and he’s not even ashamed when he realizes how desperate he sounds.

“Need me for something?” the tease asks.

“Fuck, Liam,” Zayn whines. “I saw the photos.”

“That’s what made you so out of breath?” Liam wonders, voice light and carefree on the other end of the line. “Are you touching yourself right now, Zayn? Are you calling me to get off to the sound of my voice?” he asks that like he’s talking about the weather and Zayn bangs his head against the door.

Liam knows damn well that Zayn is. He’s known from the second he hit 'post' in the Instagram app what kind of effect something like that would have on Zayn, and he’d run with it, knowing this would happen. Planning this.

“Yeah, I am,” Zayn admits anyway. “Need you so bad right now.”

“Talk to me, let me help you out,” Liam prompts, voice finally dropping in tone, smoothing out. “That’s my fault, isn’t it, that you’re so out of it right now.”

“Your fault, yes,” Zayn mumbles, hand stroking his dick fast and hard, chasing a desperate and quick release. “I’m—”

“What are you doing to solve that?” Liam asks again. “Are you grinding against the couch thinking of me fucking you thought the mattress? Or are you fucking your fist imagining my arse?”

“Fuck you,” Zayn says, but he’s not sure if he’s answering the question or using the phrase as an insult. He’s so close he’s almost crazy with it, he just needs the final push to fall over the edge.

“Liam, fuck, I need—“ he’s not making any sense anymore.

“What to you need, _Zayn_?” Liam asks, putting emphasis on his name. “Say it,” he demands.

“Need to come, Li, please,” he begs.

“Yeah?” Liam hums. “I say you can wait a bit longer,” he teases and Zayn is about to lose it, he really is so close, but that startles him enough to hold off his orgasm some more. There’s command in Liam’s voice, it soft and barely there but Zayn can feel it nonetheless. It’s not an order, and Zayn could hang up and finish himself off, but—

Liam takes Zayn’s silence as the agreement he was waiting for.

“‘bout a couple hours drive from where you are now, innit? I’ll wait up for you,” he says, voice saccharine sweet, before he hangs up.

Zayn screws his eyes shut and feels a frustrated tear run down his cheek, fingers squeezing the base of his cock to prevent him from coming. He slumps to the ground then, trying to will his erection down with a defeated groan.

“Fuck,” he whispers to himself. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” he breathes.

——

He doesn’t know how much time he spends sitting on the floor. He considers getting himself off anyway for a moment, selfishly and alone, but, in the end, he decided against it.

Getting his zipper close is a struggle and when he walks out of the changing room, he wobbles slightly. If his security notices that, no one mentions it.

He waves at a couple of important people, a smoke he’s not sure he will light hanging from his lips as an excuse to escape to the parking lot. He slams the car door shut behind him as soon as he spots the nondescript SUV and puts the unlit cigarette behind his ear.

“To the hotel?” his driver asks when he sprawls on the backseats.

Zayn grunts back something intelligible.

“Excuse me, sir?” the driver politely demands.

Zayn is still quite jittery and he kinda grits his teeth when he speaks.

“Surrey,” he says, controlling his breathing as well as he can. “Mr. Payne’s address should be already programmed in the navigation system.”

“Of course, sir,” the driver answers and if Zayn wasn’t so distracted, he would probably notice the knowing smirk in the tilt of his voice.

——

Traffic is surprisingly bearable and the drive to Liam’s house takes a little less than expected. Zayn entertains himself with texting Liam a colourful string of curses, which are left ignored, and then he takes the ill-advised decision to google Liam’s campaign.

There are more pictures. Most of them are of Liam’s in various model of underwear but there are some of him in the collection’s loungewear pieces too. And even if Zayn knew there would be more photos, he was right when he assumed he would be wholly unprepared. It silly, he realized that too, because he’s seen Liam naked and he’s seen Liam in a _suit_ , which was probably worse for his self-control. He woke up to Liam making them breakfast in boxers and he spent hours ravishing that gorgeous body when it was lit by fireplace heat. But there’s something different now, something that curls deep and hot in his stomach at the thought that yes, now Liam’s on display for the world to see, and people will lust over him, and wish they could have him, but Zayn knows that Liam’s _his_. It sits possessively in his gut, the certainty of it, of the fact that he can have him, has had him, that man that dared to strip down for greedy eyes. He can reach out and touch and take, and the world is welcome to watch because they’ll never have him.

Zayn sighs, his dick demanding attention again, and he tries to remember the breathing exercise Harry thought him, to try and calm down. It to no avail in the end.

When the car pulls up in front of the gated house, Zayn leans out of the window to punch in the code Liam texted him. He collects the jacket he took off midway through the drive and bids goodnight to the driver, who doesn’t even bother asking if he should wait for him but just drives off.

Zayn grabs the spare key hidden under a potted plant - and, _seriously_ , Liam should have better hiding places than that - unlocks the door and hangs his jacket to one of the hooks in the entryway.

“Liam?” he calls out when no one shows up to greet him and a muffled response comes from upstairs. Zayn takes that as the invitation it was meant to be and heads straight from the master bedroom, toeing off his shoes on his way.

When Zayn opens the door, Liam is sitting in the middle of the bed, dressed in sweats and a t-shirt Zayn recognizes as part of the collection, a serene expression on his face, like everything is fine and dandy. Zayn is on him before the door has time to swing closed again.

Liam’s lips are soft and smooth, and the juxtaposition between that and the scratchiness of his stubble against Zayn’s skin set all of his nerve’s ends aflame. Zayn scrambles to get his fingers on bare skin as soon as he balances himself enough and Liam wraps his arms around his slim waist, pulling him in for a second.

“Hi,” he whispers against Zayn’s mouth. “Glad you could make it,” he snickers.

Zayn would reflect on how much of an arsehole Liam is if his mind wasn’t floated with more pressing matters.

“Hi”, he answers back. “Need you,” he adds seconds after.

“Are you saying you want me to forfeit the private show, love?” Liam asks.

And now, yes, Zayn wants Liam pressed against him as soon as possible but he would be crazy to turn down a show when Liam is offering it.

“Wanna watch you,” he whispers against Liam’s neck.

“Yeah,” he nods.

They stay wrapped around each other for a couple more minutes, hungrily chasing one another’s lip and getting Zayn rid of most of his clothes.

When he’s down to just his boxers, Liam gets up and move to the other side of the bedroom, where the doors of his closet are, and stops right outside so he’ll have some space to move.

Since they started this thing between them, Zayn has come to realize how much of a show off Liam can be when they’re alone. He’s the most stunning person Zayn’s ever laid eyes on, and when he’s like this, perfectly comfortable in his skin, completely confident in his body, he glows brighter, so bright Zayn feels blinded.

There is no music to accompany Liam’s movements like in some cheesy flick, but Zayn’s already heavy breathing seems to be enough.

Liam’s fingers skim the hem of his shirt, and he turns around, showing the expanse of his back to Zayn, all the muscles flexing when he pulls the tee over his head. He then slides his hands under his sweats, cupping is arse with both hands under the cotton once, before turning around to face Zayn again.

He’s still sitting against the headboard, exactly where Liam left him, and his cock is already so hard it’s straining against his underwear too much. Zayn pushes his pants down, just enough to free his erection, but when he goes to tighten a hand around it, Liam stops him.

“Don’t,” he orders, eyes stern and fixed on Zayn. “Thought you told me you could wait, didn’t you?”

Zayn wants to protest for a second, because that was _hours_ ago, and he has been on the verge of coming ever since, but Liam only asks that of him if he has his own agenda, and the reward never disappoint. So Zayn rids himself of the boxers still tangled around his thighs and then pushes the palms of his hands against the mattress and keeps them there.

Liam nods once, a smirk colouring his lips, before he moves his hands toward his chest. He glides them over his pecs, down his abdomen, near leaving Zayn’s eyes, and then, finally, he reaches the trail of hair under his navel and pushes the elastic of his sweatpants down, down, down, until they’re past his thighs and slide on the ground on their own. Liam steps out of them, getting closer to the bed, and bites his lips before pushing a hand in his briefs and cupping his cock.

Zayn shallows one last time because his mouth has gone dry. Liam is as hard as he his, standing just shy of arm’s reach, touching himself through his underwear, head tipped back and lips bit red.

Zayn’s hand twitch with the need to touch, himself or Liam he’s not sure, but he keeps still, waiting.

“Li,” he can’t help but whisper, and Liam’s eyes snaps back on him, slightly glazed over.

“You know,” he says, releasing his cock to play with the elastic band of the briefs with both hands, hooking his thumbs under it, sliding it down an inch. His name is written on them, a _ft. Liam Payne_ that follows the brand’s name and runs across the stretched elastic band around Liam’s waist. “I said no at first.”

It takes a couple of seconds for Zayn to realize he’s talking about the campaign.

“Why?” he asks because, staring at Liam’s bare skin, he can’t see any reason for hesitation.

“Baggage,” Liam answers, shoulders shrugging. “Leftovers insecurities, the likes, you know.”

Zayn’s heart pangs at that. Gentle, strong, perfect Liam should never feel inadequate, and Zayn wishes he could go back to the past and make young Liam feel better, feel _loved_.

“What changed your mind?” he wonders.

Liam smiles at him, soft on the edges and eyes shining.

“I remembered the way you look at me and called them back,” he answers.

Zayn stops breathing then, knocked out of balance, stunned into silence. Then his heart kicks back up, beating double time. It’s too much, Zayn thinks, it’s too much intensity for something they haven’t even defined yet, something that’s still tentative and fragile on paper, but that feels too solid and real in Zayn’s soul.

“Liam,” he whispers, reaching out. “Dammit, _come here_ , please.”

Liam complies, striding the last few feet to the bed before climbing in and straddling Zayn’s hips.

“You’re perfect,” Zayn says to him, eyes keeping a steady hold on Liam’s. “You hear me? You’re fucking perfect, Liam.”

He reaches out to cup both of Liam’s cheeks in his hands and drives him forward for a kiss. It’s just a quite contact of lips to seal Zayn’s words, confirmation and assurance, a way to make him understand without words.

“To you,” Liam mumbles. “To you, I’m perfect.”

“Yeah, to me. Always,” Zayn murmurs back, hands sliding down to caress Liam’s neck.

“That’s all that matters,” Liam says and Zayn’s breath catches in his throat again.

He just wants to make sure Liam knows deep in his bones how important he is to him, how he’s became an integral function of his universe.

_I love you_ , he thinks. _I’m in love with you_ , he realizes, but he can’t say that yet, so he kisses Liam again.

There’s more intent in Liam’s response now, they’re both worked up and needy. It doesn’t take long before Liam’s briefs join the rest of the clothes on the floor and after there are a lot of fumbling hands, but in the end Zayn manages to wrap his fingers around the both of them and start stroking. It’s slow and unhurried, the exact opposite of what he thought he wanted just a couple of hours ago in this dressing room, but somehow it’s everything he needs, everything they both need right now.

When they start to grow a but more restless, Liam gently pushes Zayn’s hand out of the way. He moves even closer, bending down to reach the nightstand for a rubber. He unwraps it and slides it down Zayn's length.

"You alright with this, tonight?" he asks, soft and open. It’s doesn’t happen often, them switching during sex, because Zayn loves the feeling of Liam fucking into him too much, and Liam always needs to be in control, but sometimes he likes to push Zayn down and use him like he’s his toy, not letting him come until he’s done playing with him.

"Yeah," Zayn breaths, stumbling on the syllables when Liam grabs the lube too and slick him down.

“Good,” Liam smirks, adjusting his knees on either side of Zayn’s hip, positioning himself.

"Li, wait," Zayn says to stop him when it’s apparent Liam’s ready to just sink down his length. “We need to—,” he tries to add but Liam shakes his head, a mischievous smile dancing on his lips.

He grabs Zayn's hand and runs the pads of his fingers alongside the crack of his bum. Zayn sucks in a breath when he feels the wetness there, his fingertips easily slipping inside. He’s not as loose as Zayn would make him, always so afraid to hurt him when they do it this way, but it's how Liam likes it best, a little tight, just enough lube.

"Told you I was waiting up for you,” he whispers and then takes hold of Zayn's cock, keeping him steady, and sinks down.

Zayn gasps as soon as the first inch slips in, breathing ragged and erratic. Liam slides down his length until he’s fully seated in his lap, before placing a hand behind himself, resting it on Zayn's thigh for leverage, the other one teasing one of his own nipples before sliding down to wrap around his dick. Then he starts to move, slow and languid, effortlessly, back arched in pleasure but eyes still fixed on Zayn, looking down at him, making him gasp and whine inch after inch. Perfect friction. Showing off. 

Liam likes that, showing off, and Zayn is knocked out by it every time it happens. He's rendered useless by the pressure around his cock, the slide of the little figure eights Liam keep dawning with his hips, the stunning beauty of this man, taking him apart. 

Zayn places a hand on Liam's hipbone, more to anchor himself that to prompt any of his movements, and joins Liam's in stoking his dick in tune with the rhythm he's keeping.

It makes his blood simmer, the way Liam's in control, always and regardless. Zayn is powerless, with Liam riding him, he feels defenseless, and it drives him insane. 

Liam drags it out, slowing down every time Zayn tenses, close to the edge, until he's a trembling mess begging for relief. One of Liam’s hands slipped through his hair at some point and he tugs, exposing Zayn’s neck before biting it, lightly, making sparks dance on his skin.  

"Please," Zayn sobs. "Li, let me,” he begs.

"Yeah," Liam whispers, his rhythm faltering slightly on his next move, kissing the side of Zayn’s neck tenderly, making him shiver.

Zayn can feel the fingers around Liam's dick tightening, knuckles brushing his stomach now that they’re so close, and, with a silent cry and an intake of breath, Liam comes all over his chest. 

Zayn doesn't know what does it, if it's Liam's fluttering around him or just the sight of his lips parted in contempt bliss, pleasure embedded in his features, but his climax seizes him and then he's shuddering, crying out in sheer relief, fingers spasming against Liam's skin. 

Liam doesn't move for a few seconds, just looks at him with a sated smile on his face. Then he slides off, sitting on the top of Zayn's thighs. He smooths the pad of a thumb on the edge of Zayn's belly, a bit of his release catching on his fingers. He smirks, bringing it up to Zayn's mouth and smearing his bottom lip with it. 

Zayn licks it off, never severing eye contact, and the second his tongue darts out, Liam is leaning down, licking his own taste off Zayn's mouth.

When they part, Liam grabs the closest article of clothing to clean them up. It turns out to be the bloody briefs.

“Liked how they looked on you,” Zayn says. “It’s a shame they’re ruined now.”

“They gave me a bunch of them after the photo shoot,” Liam says, snuggling close and kissing Zayn’s shoulder. “Even managed to snag a couple of pairs for you, if you’d like to run around with my name written on your bum,” he winks and Zayn chokes on his saliva at the mental image that gives him.

Liam takes in his expression for a second longer before busting out laughing and Zayn swats him away jokingly, thinking that he wouldn’t mind that at all.

 


End file.
